As I write this, I have two babies asleep on me. Long gangly almost five year old legs across my lap and a very heavy almost four month old on my chest, clutching my bra (standard). I'm sitting here on the sofa in the dark, listening to them breathe, wondering how on earth I got here. Not the sofa, here... With two children. It still hasn't sunk in I'm a Mother of Two Girls, it's madness.

Today I was called boring, told this was the boring-est Saturday ever because daddy wasn't home and that she wishes it was Sunday NOW. It's a good job the baby can't speak. Boring. That shit hurt.

It's only today that I realised just how hard it is, having two children. Today they tag teamed me with their constant whining, both constantly hungry and letting me damn well know about it. I thought back to when I was Lil's age and my mum had only just had my brother. She was doing this shit alone AND working! So really I don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to whinging about my shitty day but I'll go ahead and moan anyway. She's my motivation on days like this and I have a feeling there are going to be a lot more of them to come (fuck you three week Easter holidays).

Aaaaaaand the baby's awake....

I managed a shower after getting her to shut up for ten minutes. It's not her fault, she's teething, but jeeeeeeeeeez they don't let up do they? I've already (probably) O'd her on placenta essence. I put some underwear on and fed her on my bed, thinking she'd go back to sleep now she was on my skin BUT NO, she'll only be happy when she can crawl into my skin. Instead, she pinched the back of my arm so fucking hard I ripped her off my nipple so fast she threw up with the most perfect aim of my granny pants. Sicky crotch. That'll teach me not to do that again, I'd also quite like my nipples intact with all layers of skin, thanks. Ah breastfeeding. She's asleep now, of course... Now daddy is just about to walk through the door after a long day in Germany doing important shit, to a house that looks as though the laundry bin has exploded in the kitchen and a fucking crèche in the lounge. Oh life. Oh housework. I hate you.

So here I am, a boring mother having a boring moan (it started off ok and it's the first published moan as a mother of two GET IN... took almost four months to start bitching about it!) about my not so boring day.

And that (one way) conversation me and my husband had about baby number 3? Let's boring well forget that.

Exhausted, I imagine. It will go, eventually, and then it'll return. You get used to it, the eternal tiredness. You learn new survival techniques like biscuits and endless cups of tea. Be kind to yourself. Nap when you can. Don't worry about the baby, you'll hear her when she wakes. Go for a walk, get out of the house. There is nothing a brisk walk can't fix, temporarily at least. Breathe that air deep into your lungs and remember how brilliant you are, even if that's not how you feel right now. That baby you love so ferociously? She is alive and that's because of you. You are winning at Motherhood. I know you're stressing about silly things like a messy house and unwashed hair but these things really aren't important. You do need to make a little time for yourself though, as impossible as that might sound right now. Self-care. A hot shower might seem like an unattainable luxury but where there's a will there's a way. The future, however, will be a different story. Three year olds love to make you feel uncomfortable while you shower by declaring your big squidgy boobies look funny as they do a poo and pick their nose at the same time. Embrace solo showering. If you feel like you're going a little crazy, call someone who knows how to make you laugh. Walk to the shops and buy three packets of Jaffa Cakes and make a fugly cry face while you eat them all. Scream into a pillow, sob into a milk stained muslin. Don't bottle it up. Hormones are a bitch, don't stifle them. Try not to feel guilt, you are doing a brilliant job. Did you curse your baby because they won't stop screaming? We've all been there. Desperation is real when you're a mother. The struggle really is real. I know you didn't think you'd ever be doing this, Motherhood, but you are and this is your life and you're rocking the shit out of it. You will have days when you feel on top of the world and days when you couldn't feel any lower. It doesn't get easier, you just get better at it. Keep on keeping on Mama. Please don't let anyone scare you into making a decision that you just don't feel fits with your take on Motherhood. You know how to mother, even if you don't think you do. It's right there, in the depths of your soul. You can do this. It isn't called 'mothers instinct' for nothing. Go with your flow, mother your child how you want to. We all have our own ways and no way is wrong. Go to a baby group, don't go to a baby group. They aren't for everyone but you might enjoy it. Adult conversation. If not, there is always Instagram. They say it takes a village to raise a child (and it does), let people help you. Nobody is judging you, it may feel like it though. And if someone does judge you to your face, tell them to fuck right off. Because you are doing your best every single day, mothering hard and helping that tiny babe sleeping on your chest grow. As long as there is a mother's love, you'll get through this.